


Keep It Secret, Keep It Safe

by Bhelryss



Series: telliusweek2017 [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Day 3, Gen, Lethe (Fire Emblem) - Freeform, Mordy | Mordecai - Freeform, prompt: secret, sand. it's coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere, telliusweek2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 10:29:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13074969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bhelryss/pseuds/Bhelryss
Summary: Day 3 (Goldoa): Constant/History/SecretsStefan’s home is hard to find, but he keeps an eye on his desert, and he keeps his secrets.





	Keep It Secret, Keep It Safe

There’s a glorified hole in the sand, away from roaming Laguz eyes. It’s a bit of a logistical nightmare, keeping the grit out of his halls and his bed, but Stefan manages. Mostly. His boots are a bit of a lost cause, there’s no avoiding keeping them clear, and the best he can do is shake them, upside down, just outside his hidden door. 

Sunrises are lovely, in his desert. He can sit at the bottom of the minor incline that leads to his home, and watch the sun crest over the dunes, bouncing orange off the rocks. There are others, in his desert, his people, the little army sequestered out of sight, etc, so it isn’t secret. But it still feels like those peaceful mornings are still a secret just to him. 

His days are just peaceful enough, blistering sun and scorching sands or distant moon and bitterly cold nights. Sunrises, and sunsets and watching out for his people, in the hidden village north of his outlying home-sweet-foxhole. Some days he sees the Laguz in the distance, never quite close enough to make out more than too-big animal silhouettes. Some days he doesn’t. 

Some days he pops out of the sand, relishes the flash of surprise on the faces of those who step too close to his home, and thus too close to the village no one knows about. If they’re one of his, his greeting is kind, and welcoming. “Hello, young one,” or Elder, if they’re older than him. “Are you lost?” It’s a code, and those of his who find him often know it.

If they’re not, his greeting is different. Playing up his oddities, encouraging little investigation. “Oh, look at you! Lost in the desert, and you found  _ me _ , playing hermit in the sands.” Those tend to shuffle off the way they came, looking for treasure, not for hidden sanctuary. Sometimes though, it’s Laguz. 

Those can smell him, if they get too close. Or at least the Beast-kind can. But they too, can be put off by a bit of eccentricity, and an invitation to talk. One they rarely accept, given they have places to be, an army to join. No time for a sun-addled swordsman who lives in the sand and enjoys surprising visitors. Which is fine, his curiosity about them is not enough for him to endanger his own. 

Laguz might treat them better than the Beorc, pretending the Branded didn’t exist could be better than being something to fear and hate, but it was still poorly done. His people wanted to be happy, and safe, and not feel like something was inherently  _ wrong  _ with them. 

Sometimes he hated the way Laguz would speak of the Goddess’ law, as they pretended he was not what he was. As they pretended he was not in front of them, as they would pretend to the faces of his people. Though, Mordecai had been a good friend...

But there was something afoot in Stefan’s desert. The sun high, the sands already hot to the touch, and distorting the air above them. He poked his head out of the dip, saw figures fighting on the sands, and someone heading his way. (He ducked back down, settled himself, ready to surprise. And, perhaps, ready to defend. His home was an outpost, technically.)

“Do you smell...something beneath the sand?” Sounded almost purred. A curious cat-noise, in a deep voice. “Something, here?” Stefan could hear the sniffs, could imagine the way the Laguz was getting his smell over and under the smell of hot sand and overwarm wind. 

“Yes, I sense something.” A growl, higher pitched. Two Laguz then, at his very doorstep. How fun, he had to greet them, didn’t he. 

“No! Over here, hello!” And he smiled, as he propped up one arm on his sword, and tried very hard to ignore the way the wind shifted, to blow his hair into his eyes. And kept that smile, even when the Cat hissed at him. “Startled you, haven’t I? My many apologies.” (He wasn’t all that sorry.)

“You are still very good at hiding,” Mordecai smiled broadly, already over his shock. “It is good you haven’t turned to stone.” 

“I remember your face,” Lethe echoes, slightly stiff. (Stefan mouths, “Noble Dame of Gallia,” at her, and she grimaces, showing her fangs.) “I’m glad too.” 

So much he doesn’t know, and his curiosity strong enough he tried to justify that knowing things was good for his people, still hiding in the sands north of here, enough so that they would have missed this fight entirely, if he hadn’t been in his home, watching the air dance above the sands. If old comrades had not come this way once more.

Sword comfortable at his side, Stefan steps away from his home, and out towards the fighting. He does not look back, because as far as any are aware, there is nothing to see. Nothing to say goodbye to. Sand will get in his house, and he’ll be feeling Grann sand long after he leaves the desert, no doubt. 

He wonders what has happened, in the three years he’s kept to his secret village, and his people. The secret he will not share, not even with such a friend as Mordecai. He makes a remark, just an odd hermit with a blade. Lunch, tea, whatever, as soon as he’s finished helping.

“Just like old times,” Lethe says with a smirk. 

“Mordecai is happy,” Mordecai agrees, “to fight with Stefan again.”

Stefan smiles, back still to his home and the village out of sight. The desert will keep his people secret. The empty sands above their homes will keep them safe. “Me too.”

(Before he leaves Grann Desert behind once more, a Beorc named Numida will ask him who he is. Stefan will reply, hand on sword hilt and hair blowing into his eyes, “I am the desert.” He will say it with a hot wind in his chest and the distant moon in his eyes. Sand gritting inside his boots and sticking to the parts of him that are damp with sweat. He is the desert.)


End file.
